January 16, 2011
The mice have returned to their winter home in Johnstown, Pennsylvania…my home! That’s right, they’re back for their annual visit. And I have to admit, they surprised me this time. We’d gotten our garage door fixed so it wasn’t gapping so much at the edges, so I thought maybe the mice wouldn’t squeeze in this year. But yesterday, my wife, Wendy, reported glimpsing scurrying shapes from the corners of her eyes. And tonight, I found the nightmarish evidence of their presence. I picked up one of the boxes of crackers I’d been storing on a shelf in the basement, only to discover the box was nearly empty. How dare the grocery store rip me off like that, I thought…until I turned the box over and saw the hole that had been gnawed in its bottom. Then, I saw the telltale black grains of “rice” on the shelf amid bits of shredded box, and I knew. Not only had my old friends from the woods across the street come back for a visit, but they had broken the garage-basement barrier! That sacred barrier is all that stands between us and pure rodent madness, and it has been violated. The next step…I don’t want to think about the next step. So instead I’ll focus on the fact that the traps are set, baited with delicious peanut butter. Hopefully, Monday morning will find my efforts rewarded with vermin captures, and the nightmare will be over. Because I have had upstairs mice before, in another house, and you do not want that, my friend. If the traps don’t work, it’s off to rent-a-cat for me. And if that doesn’t work, well…they say nukes are the ultimate deterrent, don’t they?
